


A Slice of Normality

by turbedwonder



Category: Batman (Comics), Nightwing - Fandom
Genre: AU, F/M, Officer!Dick, fem!Damian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:11:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turbedwonder/pseuds/turbedwonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick follows his gut as he meets a stunning woman that might have more issues that he does. And he knows in his gut that she's all he wants in his life. Enter family, friends, and ex-lovers. Chaos ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Damsel Not in Distress

**Author's Note:**

> AU. Officer!Dick Fem!Damian  
> Dick is about 25 and Dami is 21. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!

“Ugh!” Damianne stormed out of her father’s office. The loud bang of the very heavy wooden door echoed and startled her father’s secretary. Abruptly, she snatched her jacket from the lady with more force than necessary frightening her even more. “I’ll show you irresponsible!” She angrily muttered under her breath. She stabbed the elevator button and started to wait for it to come but decided to run down the stairwell instead. She needs to let off some steam anyway. 

“M-Ms. Wayne!” Rachel, the secretary stammered. 

Damianne turned around and fixed her with a glare as if saying Don’t you dare. The said secretary took a wary step back; eyes wide and in near panic. Mr. Wayne will likely fire her for not getting a hold of the situation. She’s gonna have to start looking for a new job, she knows it. Just then, said man yanked the door open and step through it.

“Damianne! Get back –”

As soon as she sees her father, Damianne didn’t hesitate and ran down the staircase. She has two options, go back to the manor and rehash what happened with Pennyworth which will only result to one thing – she has to apologize even though nothing she did was wrong. But Pennyworth is Pennyworth and what he says goes, even if nobody acknowledges it. OR. She can show her father what irresponsibility really is. Option two it is. She sped up and sighed in relief when the doors gave way when she turned the knob. She was so sure her father would immediately access the doors and lock her inside the building. Not that she can’t hack into the system and let herself out. What’s even more surprising is when not even one of the security sentinels stationed in the lobby went after all. But Damianne didn’t let that fool her; she knows her father is cleverer than that. So she sped up even more and made sure to get lost in a crowd.

Twice she retraced her steps to make sure she’s not being followed by one of her father’s incompetent security people. She can take care of herself, thank you very much. A quick change of clothes bought for the sole purpose of not getting tracked by what she wore, Damianne found herself standing at the entrance of the train station. Her phone in hand, she dialed the only person she knows won’t pass any judgment on her. 

“Cassandra.”

“You got into an argument with Bruce.” Her best friend said in greeting.

Damianne sighed. “Just..I am fine. Father is being stubborn. Yet again. I will contact you in the morning.” And without further ado she hung up knowing Cassandra, or Cass as she is better known as, won’t be bothered by it. She said what she needed to say. 

She came into the train station and promptly fell in line with other Gothamites planning on getting some out of town time. It is surprising how many people are lining up for a ticket. There’s a lady who seems to be dragging all her belongings with her. She’s struggling to haul two over-flowing almost bursting enormous suit cases. Then there’s an old man in a mediocre suit with a briefcase. Damianne narrows her eyes at him but dismisses him. Her eyes then settle on a young man dressed casually but elegantly with a trashy woman hanging off his arm. “Tt.” Right then she’s at the front of the line.

“One ticket to the earliest train out of town.” Damianne demanded and laid down cash. The teller immediately went to work, recognizing the tone that leaves no room for questions. 

“Here you go, Ma’am. One ticket to Bludhaven. Gate 9, train leaves in 10 minutes.” 

Snatching the ticket while searching for the right signage for the gate, Damianne walked with purpose leaving behind whispers floating around her.

\--- --- ---

The Haven as the club is aptly called is packed with people letting loose – women scantily clad and men dressed to impress. Or so they think. In the far end of the bar, one Richard Grayson, or Dick as he likes to be called, observes a woman dancing without a care in the world. He’s been watching her since she came in through the door, eyes dead set on a mission. What that is he has no idea. But there’s something about this girl that sets something inside of him. He doesn’t approach right away though, he bids his time. He wants to know more about her and he can do just that without talking to her. He scans the crowd – bodies grinding against each other, hands groping, and hips shaking. He keeps an eye on what kind of crowd the woman attracts, silently watching out for her if just one of them even tries to touch her inappropriately. After all, it is his duty even if he is on his day off.

He’s been nursing his bourbon for a while now, he all but stopped drinking when Miss Blue Eyes entered the establishment. There’s this magnetic feeling that pulled him to her. Like his gut is telling him to look out for her, that there’s something special about her. And he never ignores his gut because that’s the one thing he can trust. So he watches her. As discreetly as his position allows him. 

Dick sees her throw back one too many drinks and frankly he’s both worried and impressed. Her eyes are a wee bit unfocused from all the booze she’s been practically inhaling. But they’re beautiful, nonetheless. They’re darker than when she first came in but still holds a promise of stubbornness and an air of dignity. Dick thinks her face is not like any other. She’s not quite pale, her skin is a tad darker; a hint of a heritage that is exotic and sexy. That coupled with her high cheekbones just makes him insane. She moves incredibly graceful too. Like her body is commanding the music, ruling over every beat, taking charge of the tempo. And that’s what sealed it for him. Being an acrobat, he can spot a fellow gymnast. The fluidity in her movements might need some work but Dick can help her with that. 

After hours of just watching her, Dick finally decides to take matter into his own hands and saunters over to her. His strides become wider and his pace faster when he sees a muscular guy feels her up from behind. Dick is about to pry the bastard’s hand off her when he arrived just in time to hear the bastard howl in pain.

“OW! Bitch!” The idiot curses as he holds his nose in one hand and his family jewels in the other.

“You insolent cretin. You had the gall to touch me? You are very fortunate to have only gotten so far.” She says matter-of-factly. Damianne was about to throw another punch when Dick acted on instinct and went between the two.

“BPD,” Dick flashed his badge in front of the idiot. “Scoot before I take you in for assault.” The guy is gone even before Dick turns to face the woman he has been watching.

“I have no need for your assistance, Officer.” 

Dick sighs. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. His plan was to be his charming self and converse with the lady. With what he’d seen so far, his respect for her just climbed a notch. Her demeanor is not what he expected however rough it seems. He’s not going to let that change anything. In fact, that cemented his decision to get to know her better. Dick likes that she’s independent and can take care of herself.

“I’m not trying to get in your way, Ma’am.” Dick flashes his most charming smile.

“Tt.”

Damianne startles at his gaze. Suddenly, the temperature rose significantly. Eyes dropping to the charming smile that she must have left a trail of broken hearts. He leads her towards the Haven’s exit and away from any more idiots who might want to try to go near her.

“Just so you know, I scared him off for his sake.” The officer mock whispers. 

Damianne smiles at that. And she’s confused to see a look of pride from his eyes. She ignores the flush of her cheeks and retorts, “So you can finally come up to me after watching from your perch at the bar.”

He freezes in his tracks and looks over to her. “I thought I was being discreet,” Dick awkwardly touches the back of his neck. “I’m not creepy, I swear.” His eyes meeting hers, sparkling in earnest.

“I would not have allowed a conversation to last this long if I thought otherwise.” She nods towards the exit, “I need air.” And Dick follows her out without protest.

He found her sitting on the pavement with her legs crossed, her skirt neatly concealing her thighs (thank heavens they’re not as short as the ones the others were wearing). Her hands are on either side of her body, head thrown back as she gazes up the stars. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” He comments as he sits down beside her. “It’s unusually clear tonight.”

He can smell her. Indian jasmine, Tahitian vanilla, and a hint of some sort of rose that blends well with the air of sophistication she carries and another scent that is uniquely her own. Dick chuckles. He finds it amusing that even after all these years, he can still name the different variety of flowers. All those times he spent shadowing his Mami while on tour pays off. Feeling the weight of eyes watching him brought him back from his reverie. Smiling, “Richard Grayson,” he sprang up and bowed with a flourish, “at your service.” 

“Damianne,” She hesitates for a moment. “Damianne Al Ghul.” She decides, nodding as if to convince herself. 

He tilts his head to the side in silent question but doesn’t say anything; tucking away the memory. “But you, princess, can call me Dick.” Grin spreading across his face.

“Don’t call me that.” Damianne snaps. Dick lets out an outrageous laugh. “Y-your face!” He pants, his hands over his stomach.

She looks at him, really look at him, curious as to why being in the presence of this man oddly gives her comfort. Damianne is even more surprised that he hasn’t run for the hills yet like all the other people he encounters. 

She stiffens as she hears a second laughter blending in with Dick’s until she realizes it’s hers. She gazes at him in astonishment. Perhaps her trip out of town is not a waste.


	2. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it appears the world really is a small place. Damianne encounters a familiar face.

Damianne woke up with a start; her eyes quickly roaming around the unfamiliar surroundings, squinting at the bright sunlight drowning her immediate surroundings. Instantly, her body stiffened as every one of her senses scans for any sign of threat. She sprang on her feet in a fighting stance and her fists at the ready. She nearly punched the daylights out of Dick; it was fortunate that he has the good sense to make use of his world-class reflexes.

“Whoa whoa whoa.” The said not-quite-retired acrobat placates, throwing his hands up in surrender. 

Damianne looks at the stranger. He’s half naked with only a pair of sweat pants loosely clinging onto his hips, feet bare. She can’t help but notice his exposed torso is akin to Michelangelo’s David. Possibly better. But even in his surrender, Damianne can see that his form is in defense mode cautious of her glaring offensive. 

“What is this place?” Damianne demanded.

Confusedly, Dick asked, “You don’t remember?”

“Talk. Now.”

Dick relaxed his stance slowly. “Okay, just don’t attack. I swear I’m not a threat to you, Princess.”

Princess. _Princess._ “Don’t call me that, Richard!”

“So you do remember me!” In a blink of an eye, Dick, with a wide grin on his face, easily strides in front of Damianne who is still in a defensive stance, though not at the ready to attack anymore.

“Tt.”  
The shine in his eyes is blinding. Those crystal blue orbs are full of what Damianne can honestly say resembles sunshine – bright, blinding, and infectious. It is in itself a revelation how quickly she drowns in them. With just a single look, his eyes easily trap her in a bubble where there’s only him and her. All of a sudden, she sees herself in another world. Those eyes take them somewhere she’s certain isn’t anywhere in Gotham. They’re swept to a place where natural scenery is abundant. The smell of an apple orchard lingers in the air as arms circle her body and hugs her close to his. A distinct opposite to the darkness and gloom that looms over Gotham and its sister city, Bludhaven. 

“Come on, Princess,” Dick cajoled in that too cheerful voice for an early morning.

She scowled; his voice effectively bringing her back to reality. “You know you don’t need to be on the offensive.” He ran a finger softly down her jaw before springing backwards in a back flip. He knows if he didn’t move away, his face wouldn’t be the only ones he’d need an ice pack for.

Damianne relaxed her stance and but crossed her arms, still suspicious and hyperaware of everything going on around her like a trained assassin should. Dick’s smile went even wider. He moved towards the other side of the bed so there’s some space between the two of them. He thinks it’s much safer that way. For his sake, anyways.

“You have two seconds for an explanation. Utilize it well or that drawstring in your sweatpants will find a new purpose.” Her eyebrows knitting in irritation; she despises not being in the know especially when it concerns herself.

Damianne was surprised when he took her poorly concealed threat in stride. He smiled. He actually smiled at it, amusement clearly written all over his face. Nobody’s ever _smiled_ at her threats. This is not acceptable! She was ready to wipe that grin off his admittedly handsome face when the man in question spoke, halting her attack. Again.

“Short version? You were drunk. We talked. I took you home,” He counted off each one with a finger then threw her a look that’s half-request and half-command. “No need to hit me, Princess. It wasn’t like that.” Then it dawned on her. It sounded like he took her home to..She gave him the most intense glare she could muster. She quickly took stock of her body. Nothing seems to be sore so the officer is telling the truth. Her head is killing her though and all this glaring is making it worse. So in the meantime, she will have a civilized conversation with him with the only purpose of gathering information, right? It’s not because he’s also made her comfortable around him. Right?

She looks around trying to find anything that can help ease the pounding in her head. Tolerance to pain is one thing she’s very good at but she’s no machine. As if reading her mind, Dick produced a bottle of ibuprofen and bottled water out of nowhere and offered it to Damianne. She snatched them up and swallowed two and glared at Dick even more. 

His apartment isn’t much. With the salary of a BPD cop, he doesn’t have the means of extravagance but what he has is enough. A warm bed, a pantry full of cereals, a gallon of milk in the refrigerator, a clean bathroom, and a roof over his head. Throw in a television with cable and a couch, albeit not as comfortable as he’d like it to be, he likes it here. It’s lonely sometimes but it’s his and he’s okay with that. He’d say it’s more than enough; definitely more than what he’d used for safe bases when he was working for Babs.

“Are you hungry?” Dick asks as he strides over to her. Just then her stomach grumbled, as if reminding her she hasn’t had a decent meal since the day before. A knowing smile spread across his face, “I..uh..only have cereal.” He shifts from one foot to another, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. “You consider cereal adequate food?” She says disapprovingly and starts walking to the kitchen. 

_SLAM!_

“DICK! I know you’re still in bed moaning for more Z’s so I’m just gonna— ” The stranger stopped dead in her tracks as did Damianne. 

“—let my cooking wake you up.” The stranger whispered in surprise, a tray of eggs in one hand, and a loaf of bread and a package of mushroom in the other.

“Ms. Wayne?” The red head inquired, eyeing Damianne. Although from what she observes from how her eyes lit up in recognition, it wasn’t a question.

“Gordon.” Damianne gave a short nod. Just then, Dick came jogging in the room, having heard his door slammed. He caught Barbara’s realization of who his guest is.

“Hey Babs!” He greeted her. “You know Princess?” His face scrunched up in confusion. To his surprise, it wasn’t Barbara who answered.

Damianne turned her eyes on Dick with a glare and chose to explain how they knew each other. “Yes. Her company provides private security to my family.” 

“Ah.” Dick smiled understandably then frowned again a second after. He turned his attention to Barbara. “Did you say ‘Wayne’? As in Bruce Wayne? Your biggest client, Gotham’s richest man Bruce Wayne?”

Again, it was Damianne who spoke. “Yes.” Her voice proud but not arrogant.

“I thought you said your name was Damian Al Ghul?” Dick turned to Damianne accusingly.

“Ms. Wayne here is Bruce Wayne’s only daughter.” Barbara explained. “My mother is an Al Ghul.” Damianne felt she needed to add, just so to placate Dick’s accusing look. 

“Oh. I didn’t know that.” Dick said. An awkward silence fell between them as no one knows what to add to that little fact. It was when Barbara noticed Damianne’s eyes fall on the tray of eggs that she remembered why she barged in in the first place. Barbara lifted up the packages and started to make her way to the kitchen.

“Mushroom omelets okay?”

Damianne silently took a seat in the kitchen while Dick seemed like he floated to the refrigerator and stood there with his chin in hand, contemplating. It puzzles Damianne how Dick can act as if it’s a normal morning.

“That is acceptable.” Damianne confirmed; after all, she really is starving.

Barbara hid a smile, it always fascinates her how Damianne always uses proper language. She thinks it’s adorable but knows well enough not to say so. She spotted an apron and put it over her gray shirt and everyday leggings then messily pulled her gorgeous fiery red locks in a bun. She pulls a pan from the cabinets and starts preparing their breakfast.

The next few minutes are startlingly cozy. With a trained eye, Damianne observed the scene unfold. Barbara seems very comfortable in the kitchen which tells Damianne that she and Dick have known each other very well. Every now and then the two of them will share a look and Dick will hand a spatula, salt, or whatever it is she apparently needs. No words were spoken yet communication was playing out smoothly, seemingly in sync. That then draws two options: she knows him intimately as a lover would or she knows him intimately like a close friend would.

She felt a pang of jealousy at the notion that they could be together. Add to the fact that they look good together, perfect even. It almost startled her when Barbara spoke.

“Cozy, isn’t it?” Her eyes dropping to the sweatshirt currently providing Damianne warmth. Barbara eyed her. She noted that Damianne’s usual jaw-clenched expression is softened into a what she can only say is confused. “The sweatshirt,” She eyed the said sweatshirt again. “it’s well-worn in.” She smiles at Damianne. A smile that the other is unsure how to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I know this is waaaaaay overdue and shorter than expected. Life just kinda got in the way of everything and I’m still trying to put pieces in place. So I apologize for slow updates on this. But I assure you that there will be updates and that there will be backstories soon to shed some light on who they are in this verse. Let me know what you guys think. Suggestions are also welcome! I hope you enjoyed reading!
> 
> Also, this is cross-posted on ff.net.


	3. Revelations and Hidden Agendas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara cements her opinion on Damianne; Dick takes on a challenge; and Alfred is awesome.

Barbara throws a knowing smile to her client’s only daughter. She sticks out like a sore thumb in spite of the lack of extravagance and Dick’s cozy sweater warming her back. Her face, on the other hand, expresses jealousy and a hint of accusation. Barbara’s eyes twinkled. She has been at the end of that particular stare for so long, she expects it. Practically every single one of the officer’s former flames gave her the stink eye. Apparently, having what they all described as an extremely close relationship with one Richard Grayson is worthy of having stared holes through her head. To put it simply, she hates it. Not one of them knows her well enough to even form one opinion. Who are they to hate her so easily? They don’t get to judge her at all. The look always comes with such pure hate of having become second best in Dick’s eyes. So Barbara will unwillingly sign herself up with a cold war with whoever the woman is. In the end, Barbara would always win. Not one of those girls fared longer than three months. It can be said that Barbara is the longest relationship Dick has, platonic as it may be.

 

But Barbara likes Damianne. She’s not the typical rich kid. Yes, she can be the meanest person you will ever meet, and yes, she can be arrogant. Let’s not forget the fact that she makes it a habit to look down on you. Okay, all of that sounds terrible and paints the heiress as a world class bitch, but Barbara can see the good in her beneath all that stuck-up exterior. Once, she had seen the girl at a charity event entertaining little kids with her amazing talent in drawing. She sat patiently as she listened to each kid describe in detail what they wanted drawn and lets them model for her. Damianne set to work as if drawing them as their favorite superhero is the most important thing in the world while the little munchkins gathered around her. They watched in fascination as Damianne immortalized their traits on paper.

 

Another time, Barbara accidentally received the wrong check from the Waynes. Instead of her name and the monthly fees she collected from her client, what she held in her hand is a check written for an orphanage in Gotham for twice what is due to her; mind you, her fee is nothing to frown at. The check also indicated that it’s for the expenses for the month and with it, a not that apologizes for tardiness. But what surprised her most is the signature. It was Damianne’s. Barbara personally met with the orphanage director to deliver the check herself partly because she didn’t want to think of the possibility of another misplacement happening but mostly because her curiosity got the better of her. She wants to know this other side of the Wayne heiress. Spending time with the kids revealed the softness Damianne does not often show people, if at all. They all adore Damianne if the nonstop chatter about the heiress proves anything. It was the talk she had with the director that solidified her opinion of Damianne. Colin Wilkes confirmed that Damianne’s involvement with the orphanage is not the typical take-my-money-and-don’t-bother-me-again attitude most of the Gothamites unfortunately have towards nonprofit organizations. No, Damianne Wayne owns the orphanage and funds it solely. She opened the doors of the orphanage for the children whose parents are incapable of keeping and taking care of them. More often than not, the parents are not older than 18. Some come back when they can stand on their own and goes off to parent their child and become a family. Sadly, most of them don’t even spare another glance back. It’s heartbreaking, really.

 

Barbara learned that Colin and Damianne are close friends. What came as another surprise is the revelation that Colin is an orphan himself. He revealed that it was actually his dream to open an orphanage for children like himself. Alas, he does not have the resources to do so. It was a few years prior Barbara met Damianne that she became the silent benefactor of the orphanage which Colin now manages full time.

 

So Barbara’s adoration towards the Wayne currently sitting across from her is not unfounded. It even made her giddy with pride that once again her gut did not steer her in the wrong direction. Damianne doesn’t know it, but she has a friend in Barbara. If only Damianne will let her.

 

As an attempt to diffuse the tension Damianne is radiating with, Barbara leaned in and whispered conspiringly, “Let’s eat it all before he notices.” She placed a plate of scrumptious-looking omelet and a side of fresh toast. That seemed to be effective as Damianne smirked and dug in. She devoured the food quickly without appearing to be starving. In short, even in hunger, Damianne’s movement is graceful and with poise. Barbara gave herself a pat in the back, proud of getting the girl’s approval in soft moans of appreciation.

 

It was those soft sounds coming from Damianne’s mouth that finally grabbed Dick’s attention; making the former acrobat turn and gape at his guest. A flash of lust momentarily lighted in his cerulean eyes.

 

The grin that broke out on Barbara’s eyes took over her face. She sat back and watched the two. She definitely approves where this is going.

 

\--- --- ---

 

Dick always thought he has a thing for red heads; case in point – Babs, Roy, and even Jason before he insisted in dyeing his hair black. Dick believes that a person’s hair color reflects the character of said person. And red heads? Every single one he meets is as feisty as their hair is fiery.

 

But then he’s presented by this gorgeous specimen currently sitting in his kitchen. An exotic beauty that tramples any other he had the pleasure to lay his eyes on. Her long dark hair, cascading in loose curls down her back, is a thing of beauty.  It fascinates Dick how a person with such elegant, dark, and mysterious hair is as feisty, if not more, as any other red head in his life. He eyes a stray strand brushing against Damianne’s cheek to be immediately drawn to the pale blue eyes which are, at the moment, busy glaring a hole through his best friend’s head. And that, right there, is what he is quite captured by – the fire in her that’s constantly boiling just beneath the surface. There’s a distinct look in her eye drawing him in.

 

The sight of her is more than enough to rethink his belief.

 

Just as he drowns in the look in her eyes, her lips starts moving, enclosing a fork and sliding it out swiftly. One movement. Oh how he envied the inanimate object! All of a sudden, a sensual moan reaches his ears. That tingle of desire he felt the night before? It’s back in full force; not a tingle but a full on shiver, setting inside him ablaze with want. It stirs a deeper desire; a need to know this woman; a hunger to unravel the mysteries; a hope to learn to break down her walls; to discover what makes that fire boil over. It’s an answer to the silent challenge of getting to know her.

 

And Dick has yet to lose a challenge.

 

\--- --- ---

 

In all the years he had served the Wayne family, Alfred Pennyworth can say, with utmost confidence and pure honesty, that besides having a heart of gold, the Waynes have another trait in common: stubbornness. So far, it has not skipped a generation.

 

The doctor and his father before him were notoriously stubborn when it comes to medical procedures. This is especially true when their genius decided upon one that would likely be the most dangerous and unheard of in resolving a medical dilemma. Thank heavens both their genius and their being stubborn do not let both generations of doctors to ever let the difficulty of the situation get to them. Armed with exhaustive research, countless experiments, and extensive tests, they perform inconceivable procedures. It isn’t a surprise the patient always comes out better than expected.

 

Then there’s Master Bruce, the current master of the manor. It’s expected that he follow his father’s footsteps and start dabbling with medical experiments. Alas, his interests are too broad to focus on one field. As much undecided as he was in which path he will take, his heart is pure. Alfred was not surprised when he first manifested the trademark characteristic. The master was only a toddler, a tender age of eight, when he trotted over to his father on a mission to help a homeless man he saw on the news. The young master pleaded and pleaded until he convinced his father that they needed to hire the man into Wayne Enterprises because _“Like the proverb says, Father: Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man how to fish and you feed him  for a lifetime. You can train him!”_ Alfred can hear the little boy’s voice like it was yesterday. Needless to say, he convinced his father. The man is now head security at Wayne Enterprises. It makes him proud to witness all the acts of kindness only people close to his charge have the privilege to see. At the thought, Alfred smiled softly and thought _your mother and father would be proud to see their boy grow up into a man with a genuine heart with a mission to help._

 

Alfred walks into the study with a tray in his hands. Right now, the billionaire is stubbornly reading through financial reports trying to pretend nothing’s wrong. He hasn’t turned the page in an hour.

 

He places a steaming cup of coffee just visible to his charge’s peripheral; he’ll get to it in a second. “What’s gotten you brooding, Master Bruce?”

 

Bruce, not one to keep anything from the butler, heaved a sigh of frustration. “It’s Damianne.”

 

“Ah.” Alfred inches the coffee closer. Bruce lifts his eyes from the reports they both know are just for show to Alfred’s sympathetic look. He reaches out and takes a sip – Alfred always makes his coffee perfect. “Thanks, Alfred.” The man nods in acknowledgement.

 

“Perhaps the young miss is with Miss Cassandra?” Alfred points out as this has not been the first nor will it be the last time, for that matter, that the youngest Wayne has opted not to return home for a night. She usually manages to join Alfred in the morning for breakfast as per their routine. Today, however, is not one of those days. Considering the verbal it between his charges, it is not a surprise. He knows the young miss can take care of herself, but her absence at breakfast is worrying. She hasn’t missed one in years.

 

“Cassandra is not answering my calls.” Bruce responds gruffly, taking another sip of coffee. He feels a comforting weight on his shoulder. “She will be back, Master Bruce. I wouldn’t worry about her too much.” Another heavy sigh left Bruce and he let all his walls down enough that his shoulders slumped forward. “She went out of town, Alfred, to Bludhaven, no less.” He runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. “That place is even worse than Gotham!”

 

“I believe it’s time to call Miss Barbara. She is based in the city, does she not? We can ask her to keep an eye out for young miss Damianne without directly intruding in her privacy,” The butler suggests thoughtfully. “You only need to give her time, sir. She will come around.” After a beat, he adds, “Now have some breakfast muffins and I’ll leave you to make a phone call.” He pats the younger man’s shoulder one last time before retreating to the kitchen. He needs to get lunch going if he’s making Master Bruce’s favorite dish.

 

Before the door clicks shut, he hears the Wayne patriarch greeting Miss Barbara good morning. Alfred smiles; the father and daughter will see each other eye to eye one day, one step at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, I do not have any excuses. Sorry this took a hella long time. Just that life happened. Hopefully I can have chapters up sooner. I'm hoping to update at least on a monthly basis. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! Suggestions, violent reactions, or just reactions are always welcome.


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